


Skye's The Limit

by obiwanken5



Category: Star Wars: X-wing Series - Aaron Allston & Michael Stackpole
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-09
Updated: 2014-09-09
Packaged: 2018-02-16 17:11:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2277942
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/obiwanken5/pseuds/obiwanken5
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wes has lost a kitten.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Skye's The Limit

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for the 2014 Rogues/Wraiths Fic-A-Thon, and the prompts included "Hidden pets", "teddy bears", "Allston Quotes"
> 
> Apologies for the lame plot :) I wanted to get more quotes in here, but I couldn't make them work for me with this idea. Also, Skye is my creation, and she's originally from an AU of the SGA 'verse. I transplanted her here because Wes, like John Sheppard before him, really needs a cat.
> 
> This one goes out to w_janson.

The X-Wing hanger was empty, devoid of life save for the occasional beep of maintenance droids. The fighters were a forest of durasteel, standing silently in their squadron formations. To Wes Janson, pilot of the New Republic, they stood more like sentinels and he could swear that they watched him as he stood on the threshold of the entrance. Trying to shake off the unease of being stalked, he entered the hanger and began to look over, under and around each craft. The bay doors were closed, which meant that there was no way anyone or anything would have gone that way. It was a small consolation, for it meant that he could confine his search to the base.

 _Not that the base is any less of a hassle_ , he thought ruefully. Having determined that nothing was amiss around the fighters, he turned his attention to the perimeter, and all the pieces of support equipment that were tucked away. Noting nothing out of the ordinary among the larger pieces, he focused on a large supply rack near the doorway on the opposite side of the hanger from which he'd entered. A quick glance up at the shelves produced nothing, which meant there was only one other place to look. Wes dropped to his hands and knees and stuck his head under the supply rack. He visually swept the area, his sense of unease growing at the absence of his quarry. He had barely finished a sigh of defeat when his unease found a new source of power.

The words, "Nice rear, lieutenant," were followed by a familiar laugh as Wes hit his head on the shelf, the pain reminding him that he was still on the ground and partially underneath the fixture. He crawled backwards with a muttered curse and sat back on his haunches. He squinted up in indignation at the women standing over him, unable to think of anything more humiliating.

"Was that really necessary, Shalla?" he asked.

"Yes," she replied. "It’s no less true now, than it was the first time." She winked at him and started on her way; Wes could feel the colour rushing to his cheeks at the reminder of the Kettch incident, and the first time Shalla had uttered those words to him. His blush intensified as she paused on the threshold of the doorway and glanced back with an evil grin. "You do still have the cape, don’t you?"

Before Wes could do more than let his jaw drop, she was gone.

"I don’t think I’ve ever seen you blush so hard after being given such a compliment," the comment came from behind him. Wes closed his mouth and blinked as he turned to look at the speaker. Hobbie Klivian was leaning casually against the landing strut of the nearest X-Wing, hands stuffed in his pockets.

"How long have you been standing there?" Wes demanded.

"Long enough." Hobbie pushed away from the wall. "So, you and Shalla, huh?"

Wes blinked rapidly. So far, the story about his naked run through the Mon Remonda had been confined to the Wraiths, and he really didn’t want Hobbie finding out, or else the Rogues would find out about it, too. There was only one thing left to do… "Yeah, me and Shalla." …Lie.

Hobbie whistled appreciatively. "Nice. I'm going to ask you about that cape thing later, just so you know."

"Of course you are. Why not now?"

"Because you seem too preoccupied to give me a good answer; you lose something? The afore-mentioned cape, perchance?"

Wes winced. "Skye," he said simply. He stood up and brushed the dust off his knees.

Hobbie gave him a sympathetic look as the pair fell into step and left the hanger. "What about you? What brings you down here on your time off?"

Hobbie looked around to make sure there was no one within ear shot; he lowered his voice and replied, "Bamfa’s missing."

Wes raised a brow. His friend’s stuffed bantha was always accounted for in Hobbie’s room, hidden only during inspections, official or otherwise. "How did you manage to lose Bamfa?" Wes asked, keeping his own voice low.

"I don’t know. I had him when I woke up this morning, and I left him on my bed before going to the mess for breakfast. I went back to grab my datapad about ten minutes ago, and he was gone. I saw you skulking about and figured you might have something to do with it, so I followed you."

"Why would I steal Bamfa? Don't answer that," he held up a hand to forestall whatever Hobbie was going to say. "Tell you what, you help me find Skye and I’ll help you find Bamfa."

Hobbie thought about it for a moment, then nodded. "Deal."

***

Wes and Hobbie wandered the base, taking each corridor systematically and searching every public space they could easily walk into. The mess hall had been the trickiest to search covertly, since there were officers and pilots scattered around. In the end, however, Wes concluded that if Skye were hiding in the mess hall, it wouldn't have been so quiet and orderly.

Resuming their circuit through the halls, Hobbie cleared his throat. "So, uh, about that cape..."

"Do we have to do this now?"

"Yes. I want to know why Shalla is so keen on you in a cape."

Wes smiled ruefully. "You can't look dignified when you're having fun," he offered up by way of explanation.

"Right. Are you being serious, or are you just dodging the question?"

"Yes."

Hobbie snorted as they paused at a junction. Wes glanced down one of the halls thoughtfully.

"Personnel quarters this way," Hobbie noted. "Should we even bother?"

"No way for us to get inside unless you're keen on going door-to-door."

"Not really, no. I'd rather not have to explain what we're doing."

"Right, and we can only use the _we're collecting for the poor_ excuse so many times."

"It's better than the _we're filming a holovid would you like to be a star_ line."

"Hey, that would've worked if you'd committed to your part."

Hobbie shot Wes an exasperated look; as he opened his mouth to reply, a loud crash echoed faintly from down the hall. Only a brief look was exchanged between them before they sprinted towards to noise. Several loud thumps guided the pilots to the appropriate door – Face Loran's quarters – and Wes knocked.

"Go away!" was the reply from inside. "Or, if you're Major-rank or higher, go away _Sir_!"

Wes knocked again, this time adding, "Face, it's Janson. Open up!"

"Can't, it'll get away if I open the door."

"Skye," Hobbie breathed. "It has to be."

Wes nodded and pounded on the door. "Seriously, Loran, let us in, we can help you."

There was a moment of silence, and then. "Fine, but if this goes south, it's on you."

***

Wedge Antilles looked up from the datapad he'd been reading, the faint sound of something amiss outside the closed door of his office drawing his attention. He blinked, looking between the datapad and the door several times, before settling on the datapad.

"I don't want to know," he muttered softly. "I really, really don't want..."

A loud thump followed by a shout cut off Wedge's attempt at convincing himself to ignore whatever it was, and he dropped the datapad with a sigh. Knowing full well that he was going to regret it, he pushed way from the desk and crossed the room to the door and palmed it open.

He was about to step into the hall when a tiny white kitten raced by him, a stuffed bantha that was only marginally larger than she was clenched between her teeth. She skidded to a stop several feet away and glanced back at Wedge. She let out a muffled mrow, which Wedge took to mean _I was never here_. Behind them, from around the corner, a trio of voices could be heard, at least one of them Janson's. And if that was Janson, then Hobbie had to be one of the other two voices.

Wedge smiled. "Hi sweetie. I have a teddy bear in here that you and Bamfa can snuggle with, if you'd like? Keep that lot," he gestured towards the corner that the pilots were rapidly approaching, "guessing on your whereabouts for a while longer?"

The kitten let out another muffled mrow and backtracked to Wedge. He stood aside and she wandered into his office. Face skidded around the corner, catching sight of Wedge. The Rogues' CO shook his head in disappointment, although the effect was nearly ruined when Wes and Hobbie collided with Face.

Wedge rolled his eyes and went back to his desk, the door closing behind him with a faint hiss. He dug a slightly battered teddy bear from the closet and placed it on the chair that the kitten had appropriated. By the time he made it back to his desk and sat down, the kitten had nested herself in the arms of the bear, her paws wrapped protectively around Bamfa, and was now snoozing peacefully. Wedge picked up his datapad and settled in to finish his work.


End file.
